Catherine's OneShot Spectacular!
by RumAndNukaCola
Summary: A collection of one-shots. Some pairings, drug usage, language and high rad content within. Includes contents chapter for easy navigation!
1. CONTENTS

This chapter will cover the contents of each oneshot for easy fandom finding/avoiding Wheee~  
**ALL chapters probably include language.**

**1. CONTENTS**

**2. What I Saw.  
**LW/Butch, language, mushy junk.

**3. What Are Baby Snakes Called?  
**LW/Butch, language, more mushy stuff I wrote under the influence because I am a loser.

**4. Damn The Woman.  
**LW/Burke – okay, not so much, mainly Burke being a fanboy. Probably language, I cbf checking over it.

**5. First Night, First Contact.  
**LW/Jericho, lots of language. I don't know what the fuck

**6. Prom Night Blues.  
**Just some words I threw together about the Vault prom I assume they have. Some implied LW/Butch, but only mentioned in passing. Might make a part 2, might not. Only time can tell.

**7. Jessie.  
**Based on Loxi's _Jessi Companion_ mod, available at Fallout 3 Nexus. I was thinking about it in game and came up with a little story for her. I know that _technically_ she's a raider but I like my story better so _nerrr! _As per usual, naughty words and some implied LW/Butch, but what did you expect, hmm? I might actually turn this into an actual fic, this is a cut-down version and I like the idea of Jessie tagging along.

**8. Smooth.**  
LW/Butch – Oh come on, what else did you expect? Something a little different with the POV this time. But you gotta love that greaser~

**Coming soon... hopefully... maybe...  
**Some Charon goodness (I only write that on request, however. Personally not a fan of that pairing but I have friends to plase,) as well as bits and bobs of junk you don't really care about so _whateeeeeevvveeerrrrr~_


	2. What I Saw

**This story features:  
_LW/Butch, some mushy comfort stuff, language._**

* * *

She literally tosses herself onto him, nearly knocking him off the barstool. He didn't even know she was there, and he instinctively wonders what he did wrong.

Then he realises she's not trying to tackle him. Her arms are wrapped around his neck loosely, and if he didn't know any better, he'd think she's holding him to stop herself from collapsing. Her sobs are attracting the attention of the other barflies, and even though he's had a few too many, he can tell something is wrong. She _never_ came back from a trip like this.

Without a word, he nods to Belle, who'll add these last few drinks to his tab that grows larger by the day. He stands up, pulling her up a little with him and wondering what the hell happened to reduce her to this? She won't let go off him as they leave the Muddy Rudder, all eyes cast on the apparently destroyed adventurer who'd come back from adventures covered in blood and guts from head to toe and radiation poisoning that was making her dry-wretch without even so much as wincing.

Even the odd security guard turns their head when they realise the sobbing woman hanging off him is her, although he can safely assume some of them were initially more interested in the possibility of him taking another woman back to their room. Gossip travels fast in this ship, and Trinnie likes to tell stories.

He leads her into the room and stands her by the bed. "Sit down, okay?" He asks her with the most gentle tone he can muster without emasculating himself before shutting and locking the door, as no doubt there is a very gossip hungry Belle about to wander the ship and coincidentally find herself by their door.

"Butch…" she sobs as he sits down next to her, her face covered by her hands. He can see bruises, huge bruises all over her arms and legs, and he can assume the neat and bloody rip in her shirt isn't one that came about by accident of her own.

"Jesus, Cat…" he asks, lifting up the back of her collar and checking her back to find even more bruises, worse than the others. "What the heck happened to you?"

She shakes her head and throws herself onto him again, burying her face into his shoulder and tossing her arms around his waist. She's shaking. He's never seen her like this before and he has _no_ idea what the hell he's supposed to make of it.

"Butch… I… I… there was…" she can barely finish her words, she's in a horrible state, frantically gasping and choking on her weeping.

"Hey…" he whispers, stroking her hair even though he feels like a wuss. "Hey… shhh, calm down, it's okay, I'm here, anything tries to touch you and I'll kick its ass."

He can feel her shaking her head. "It's not that…" she chokes, looking up at her. Her eyes are teary and full of fear and it scares the _shit _out of him – what the hell made her like this? "I… I saw things…"

"Saw things?" he asks. "What _kinda_ things?" He genuinely doesn't understand. They'd seen some _terrible_ things before, things that almost destroyed him but barely even phased her; usually it was _her_ doing the comforting. They'd seen people slaughtered in front of them, people with bombs attached to them, they'd discovered a society of cannibals… they'd seen children…

And this is the first time he's ever seen her shed a tear over something she's seen out there. Well, when Amata threw her out of the Vault he could have _sworn_ he saw her crying as she passed him, but she always denied that.

"Well… I was in a vault… Vault 106." she begins, her breath shuddering as she finally calms herself down enough to form a full sentence. "That's why I made you stay here… after the stuff we saw when we were getting the G.E.C.K, I didn't want to throw you into that again, and I mean, who _knew_ what the hell was in there…" He grunts. He _hates_ it when she leaves him behind, especially when it's because she doesn't think he can handle himself out there. He's _fine_ out there, he just needs her to lead the way and stuff.

"Anyway… I was looking for… Christ, I can't even remember _what_ I was looking for. The whole thing's a little blurry… and… there was something in the air, like a gas or something, it smelled weird in there. At first there wasn't really much in there, it was sort of like that one we went to a while back, the one with all the guys screaming 'Gary' at us except the people in there could speak English… anyway, they didn't seem to like me, they all attacked…"

He nods, is this what it's all about? No, this can't be it, she didn't have a problem shooting security in Vault 101 and she _knew_ them…

"I mean, I would've liked to know what was going on and not shoot them… but they didn't really give me a choice. It was like trying to reason with a Raider… anyway, I was trying to find out what the hell happened in there, the place looked like a bomb had hit it and there were skeletons in there. I went down to one of the sub-levels trying to find _anything_ that might explain what was going on…"

She puts her hand to her face and takes a deep breath, trying to hold in another sob. "There was another survivor, a scientist in there, and he attacked me… but… but… there was something wrong in there, Butch, something really wrong, because when I was going through the vault I kept _seeing things,_ things that weren't there."

"You mean you were like, hallucinating? Like when you get a fever?"

"Yeah, but worse…" she makes a deep, shaky sigh. "I saw my _dad_ Butch. Dad was in there, in the clinic area. Everything looked different, the light went a funny colour but I thought it was just shoddy wiring or something and then I saw him walking down a hallway, and I ran after him and kept shouting at him but then he was gone… and then I turned another corner and dad was there again, going into a room… but he wasn't the only one, Amata was in the hallway, but there was more than one of her running towards me but I didn't care because dad was in _that room…_" she's losing herself in the story. "But when I opened the door the lights went back to normal and he was gone…"

He can tell she's upset about this and strokes her hair again. "You were just seeing things, Cat. It's okay…"

"I know… it just felt so _real…_" She goes quiet, her eyes fixed on the wall. "But when the scientist attacked me… I had another hallucination… and… and… I saw _you_…"

"You saw me?" he said, almost laughing a bit. "Hey, what's so bad about that? I'm a pretty good looking guy."

His joke, although well meant, doesn't make an impact on her as she wipes another tear from her eye. "No, Butch, you and the other Tunnel Snakes… and you were _trying to kill me_."

"…What?"

"And the hallucination was so bad… I couldn't see the scientist anymore and you guys came to attack me and… and… I couldn't do it, Butch. I couldn't hurt you. And I know it wasn't real…" she quickly said before Butch could point it out. "But I couldn't tell at the time… it looked like you, sounded like you… it even _smelled _like you… and then you, well, the hallucination, I mean, started to attack me and I just _couldn't do anything_ because I didn't want to hurt you…"

"What about Mack?" he asks. "Was he there?"

She nods. "All of you were…"

"Then why didn't you just kick _his_ ass? You _hated_ Mack."

"I was scared… the others were there but all I could see was you, and the one doing all the damage was _you_ and I was so scared and confused and… and…" she starts sobbing again.

"…Is that were all the bruises came from?"

She nods, looking a little like frightened child. "The hallucination was making me think he was you… he had a baseball bat… I snapped out of it eventually before he could do any _real_ damage and got him, though…"

"_Real_ damage? Some of these bruises are _bleeding, _Cat! You're lucky he didn't fuckin' _kill_ you! Why'd you let him do it?"

"I told you, Butch, I couldn't do it… it just couldn't shoot at you… I honest to god thought it was you… even though you'd never hit me, right?"

He stares at her, a horrified expression on his face. Did she even need to _ask_ him that? "Fucking hell, Cat, I might not be the greatest guy in the world but I'd never do that… I might give you a swirly or a wedgie or even a Chinese burn if you're getting' on my nerves or making me look uncool or somethin' but I'd never take to 'ya with a baseball bat!"

She rests her head against his chest and wraps her arms around him again, taking a deep breath and exhaling as she closes her eyes. "Thanks Butch… I… I needed to hear that… I wish I was joking…"

He chuckles. "Yeah, well, it's okay. I get it. I'd be scared shitless too if I thought you were beating me up… but that's mainly because you're a girl and I can't hit 'ya back or anything… and you're probably the only person who'd be able to take me on, that too."

"You hit me on my birthday." She reminds him, finally lightening up a little bit.

"Hey! I was like, 11, okay? How was I 'sposedta know you'd grow up to be the hottest chick on the planet?"

"Hottest chick on the planet, huh?" she laughs, finally giving him a full smile and making him feel as though he's accomplished some sort of secret mission. "Even when I'm covered in dirt and bruises?"

"_Especially_ when you're covered in dirt and bruises. I like girls who can kick ass."

She smirks, straightening herself up a bit. "I'll kick _yours_ in a minute if you don't hurry up and kiss me."

Not wanting his ass kicked, he obliges, trying to be gentle but eventually losing himself along with her as they usually did, especially when she comes back from a trip. He pulls her in and her breathing becomes heavier, before she eventually gasps and pulls back.

"Sorry…" she stammers, turning a little red. "I think he busted my rib or something; hurts to breath."

"Wanna go to the clinic? It's not too late, Doc's probably still there."

As much as she wants to say no and put on her tough face, especially after that outburst, she's horrified by the possibility of a punctured lung, especially after reading her latest medical journal that she found on her travels. "Yeah… you can go back to the bar if you want. I'm sure that Sister needs someone to play pool with, and Belle's probably dying to find out what's going on."

He helps her up off the bed and watches as she gives a grimace.

"Go back to the bar when my girl looks like she's been wrestling Super Mutants with her bare hands? They can shove it."


	3. What are baby snakes called?

**Okay, this one is written a little differently, and I'd had a beer or two beforehand so I'm not even sure if you kids will like the subject matter. But I like how it came out even if it is crazy mushy to the point of making me want to puke.**

**This story contains:  
_LW/Butch, mushy mushy baby talk stuff, slight-sexy-almost-not-really-tiemz, possibly swearing. I'm too lazy to go over my own stories. T_T_**

* * *

"Enclave power armour, huh?"

I watched as Flak examined the loot, fidgeting with panels and checking all the wiring as in place. Sometimes I wished he didn't know his stuff.

"Hmm… it's in good condition. Guessing you didn't kill its owner first?"

"Nope. Found it in a crate."

He shrugged and placed it back down on the bench. "At any rate, there's a lot of materials in there I can source. I'll give you… 100 caps."

"No way. 350."

"200."

"250."

He paused for a moment, before sighing and opening the register. "Should have known better than to try to bargain with you of all people… here." Once he was done counting, he placed the caps in my hand. "All yours."

I quickly poked each one with my index finger, making sure it was all there, before closing my hand and placing them in my pocket. "Nice seeing you, Flak."

With a smile I walked away. While, realistically speaking, it was worth way more than 250 caps, I'd be dreaming if I thought I was going to find anyone willing to pay it. I'd had to pay Butch's tab last night… again, 50 more caps and I'd have had it all back. I made a mental note to remind him when I got back to our room.

A figure smiled at me as I made my way towards the marketplace stairs and I knew exactly what it wanted. Father Clifford had a way of making me feel guilty if I didn't fork over some caps for the church, and he'd make me feel worse when Butch refused to donate… which was always. As much as I hated saying no to him, I hated being out of Stimpacks.

"Ah, Catherine, may Saint Monica bless you!" he greeted, arriving at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Hi, Father Clifford…"

"And how are you today?"

"Uh, I'm great, I'm actually kind of in a hurry…"

Completely ignoring me, he gently placed his hand on my upper back and began to guide me along as, to my displeasure; we began to walk leisurely towards Gary's Galley. "Now, Catherine, I've been meaning to have a chat with you."

Oh no, here it comes. The church needs more money, I guess. "Have you?"

"Yes, it's a very important matter… you see, Catherine, I've heard some things."

I raised an eyebrow. This was not what I had expected to hear at all, unless he was just finding more tact and clever ways to sucker me out of my caps. "Uh… what?"

"I've heard some… rumours… and I hope they aren't true, and Catherine, before I begin I want you to know that I bring this up only out of deep concern for you."

"Oh, uh, okay then?"

"It's about you and your friend… Mr DeLoria…" he began, a frown beginning to appear. I knew it. I braced for him to ask for the caps… "You see, I've been hearing that you two have been sharing a room at the Weatherly for quite some time. Is this true?"

What? "Uh… yes, we have…"

"I see… and I've noticed that you two are… more than just friends."

I pursed my lips. Jesus, I thought I'd done a good job at keeping the whole playful-ass-grab thing to a minimum. "Well… uh… you could say that."

"Now, forgive me for sounding intrusive, but I certainly hope that you two are not breaking Saint Monica's trust in you out of wedlock." I couldn't help but cringe when he said this, he put it _way_ more delicately than I'd be comfortable with.

"Well I hardly think that's your business…"

"It may not be mine, but it is Saint Monica's."

"Uh, well… anyway, you don't need to worry." I lied. Goddamnit, talking to this guy was like talking to one of the Vault elders.

"I see…" he stopped and faced me. "Well, I offer this to all the unmarried couples in Rivet City, but when the time comes I would be more than happy to join you two in-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I interrupted, trying as hard as I could to sound less than rude but probably failing. "Thankyou for the offer but that won't be happening!"

He frowned, crossing his arms. I could feel the disappointment and even though I didn't particularly like him, it stung. "Well, the offer is always there… and remember, Saint Monica is watching."

As I continued to walk away, I heard the caps clatter in my pocket. At least he didn't ask for a donation.

--

"So, how'd it go?" he asked me, watching me unload my medical supplies onto the table.

"Good. I got 250 caps for it."

"Sweet! That's almost the whole tab."

"Yeah, too bad you're still going to pay me back for _all_ of it." I laughed, watching Butch as he sighed and looked guilty as a puppy.

"Aww, come on, Cat. Can't I just pay you back in hair cuts?"

"Butch, I don't have that much _hair._ It's not like I'm asking for it right now, anyway."

"Shoulda' stuck to wine…" He groaned, throwing his head back in despair. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Should have thought about that before you drank 300 caps worth of alcohol and then I had to carry you back to the room."

He chuckled and approached me from behind, draping his arms around my shoulders in a sort of half-hug. "Oh, but you enjoyed it."

"I did not!" I laughed.

"Nuh uh, you totally loved having the Butch-man all over you. You musta' felt like the luckiest girl in the bar."

"Butch, you smelt like scotch and kept drinking the drinks you bought for me. And it's not hard for me to feel like the luckiest girl in the bar when the bar is the Muddy Rudder."

"Come on, Cat, all eyes were on us."

"Yeah, because you were so drunk that you tried to fight Brock and he just _laughed_ at you…"

"Hey, if I hadn't had passed out when we got back…" he laughed, slowly beginning to drag me backwards to the bed. "Maybe we should uh, make up for lost time?"

I rolled my eyes as he fell back onto the bed, taking me with him. He was such a kid sometimes… "Oh, that reminds me. I had the creepiest conversation today…"

"Oh?" he asked, burying his head in the space between my neck and shoulder. I could tell he wasn't listening. Did _all_ men have one-track minds like this?

"Yeah, Father Clifford asked if we've been having sex."

He paused, laughing. "You bein' serious?"

"I couldn't make something like that up if I wanted to, Butch. I sort of lied and denied it, and then he suggested we get married!" I laughed. "Can you believe that? Married? Hah!"

It took a minute before I realised Butch wasn't laughing, but staring at me curiously. "What's so wrong with that?"

In seconds, every breath of laughter drained out of me. "What?" He didn't just seriously ask me what I think he did, right?

"What's wrong with getting married?"

There was a silence as I sat there, my jaw wide open, trying to figure out what he was getting at. "Butch…" I began. "W-what are you getting at? _You_ want to get married?"

He looked down, probably trying to keep his usual air of bad-boy cool, and crossed his arms. "Hell no! No way! I'm a Tunnel Snake, I don't have time for that stuff."

"Then why say that?" I asked. "I mean, you sounded like..."

"Like I wanna get married?" he cut in. "There is no way I'm getting hitched."

I smirked a little; this was a new side of Butch I hadn't seen before. A little inadvertently sweet of him… "So… you never want to have kids, anything?" I asked, trying to take advantage of this.

He glanced at me and shrugged. "Well, maybe one day, but I ain't got time for no brats. So you'd have to take care of 'em."

"Me?" I laughed. "Woah, who said anything about _us_ having kids? Butch, you're scaring me… marriage, kids… what's with this?"

"Well I just figured that well, you know…" he shrugged, still trying to keep the reigns and seem tough. "I ain't gonna be young forever, you know? And I gotta have someone to keep the Tunnel Snakes goin' when we're both old… and we've been… _you know_… for this long… so…" He trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

I, on the other hand, smiled. "Butch DeLoria, that is the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard you say…"

"Well don't get used to it, I'm gonna have to be pretty old."

"So… sorry, I need to make sure I'm not dying of rad poisoning, one day, you'd like me to be the mother of your children – is that what you're saying?"

"I guess so, yeah…." He sighed, a bit of guilt in his voice. "Would you uh… wanna have 'em?"

I laughed. "Well, I've never thought about it… I guess maybe after Enclave is all gone and Project Purity is national… but that's a long time away…"

Butch laid down on the bed, gesturing for me to join him as we shared a bit of a pensive mood about our future. I joined him, his chest against my back with one arm casually thrown over me, our fingers interlaced.

"Hey, Butch… can you promise me something?" I asked, not sure how well this question would go over.

"Shoot."

"Well…" I took a deep breath. "If it ever… _does_ happen… like… if we have a kid one day and it's a boy… promise me you'll name him James, okay?" I asked, the fear of meeting my mother's fate creeping up on me.

For a moment I thought I'd have to explain my request to him, but when he nodded and whispered "Promise." it became apparent I didn't have to.


	4. Damn the woman

Every day now, Burke checked the mail drop, questioned the traders, but nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It's almost as if she didn't care. Days, weeks, months with nothing so much as word she was alive, if not for that insufferable and uncultured radio station, he would have assumed she had died. But she wasn't dead, she was alive, and ignoring him.

He removed his hat, placing it on his desk and running his fingers through his hair. _Why_ was she ignoring him? He was a far from vain man, but he could tell that compared to every other man down in that cesspool they called Megaton, he was a catch beyond any woman's wildest dreams. She wasn't just _any_ woman, though.

No, he could tell from the first moment she walked into that pile of rusted metal and gave him a smile. She was clean, groomed, graceful. Compared to the swine in there she was practically glowing. It wasn't long until her curiosity drew her to him, no doubt she'd been seeking... something more than the perverted and crude man who had been eyeing her intently since she'd entered.

She listened to him, polite, well mannered, impressing him more and more. She was civil, not just tossing aside his proposition with curse words and threats as had happened previously. And then she smiled, leant in and took his glasses from his face.

"Well, Mr Burke... how about a little _proposition_ of my own?" she asked, sitting on his lap casually, taking him totally off guard, his throat ceasing up and making him swallow hard to speak.

"...Why, of course."

"Listen, I live here, _lover,_" she crooned, almost in a whisper putting the glasses on and winking from behind them. "And you wouldn't want to hurt _me_, would you?" her vowels were well rounded, perfectly annunciated and enchanting, he had never heard anything like it in his time. She placed the glasses back on his face and he re-adjusted himself frantically, standing up and clamouring for words.

"Uh, yes, I uh... of course, I understand... as you wish, my dear. You truly are a rare beauty in a horrible place..."

"Perhaps," she laughed, a little cheek in her eyes. "You should leave and organise your affairs, or else we may run the risk of compromising our integrity."

His sweat turned cold at the mere _thought_ of doing _that_ with _her. _Of all the places to run into such a rare gem, a beauty beyond his wildest dreams, he ran into her here? And she wanted to _spare_ this place? It went against everything he know he should do, but the look in her eyes was enough to convince him to give her anything she wanted if it meant she would love him.

"Of course. I... I must take my leave. Wait here, and I shall send for you, my love."

Of course, now he sat alone in his apartment, without that rare, untouched beauty by his side. He'd sent letters, gifts, and more recently had sent a contractor to check up on her – in secret, of course, he didn't want to seem pushy. If the screaming moron on the radio was correct, she'd been doing some important things, not necessarily things he agreed with, but things that proved to him that the few single woman in Tenpenny Tower would never hold a candle to her.

He'd told her where he was, and she knew where to find him. When she was ready to, she would come to him and they could begin a life together.

And then that day came, the report from his contractor in his hands and every inch of his will used to stop himself from tearing it there and then. Located alive, Rivet City, Muddy Rudder bar, male companion, shared quarters... he barely even read the letter but he knew enough to be filled with enough rage to detonate that bomb in Megaton _himself_ had the blasted woman not de-activated it.

He should have known, he was foolish to trust her. He'd heard stories of women like that, black widows who used their feminine wiles to ensnare and trap men in their web of lies, use them and then spit them out like they meant nothing. He _didn't_ mean anything to her and that's what angered him the most. He had spent months caring, worrying, _longing_ for her and she probably forgot about him as soon as he'd left that pile of steel and rust.

And now she'd found a new flame, he wondered if she cared about _him_, whoever he was, probably an uncultured, brash, loud, uneducated man she'd found in the wastes. She had a taste for the exotic, perhaps this was a way for her to rebel from her good breeding, by turning down a man of decency like _him_ for some common rodent. He would have done anything for her, dressed her in the finest clothes, given her the most expensive things, treated her like the doll he thought she was, but now she had what she deserved – a drunkard on her hip, a dive bar, a venereal disease too, probably. He grimaced, he'd probably dodged a bullet there, who knew what spending long periods of time with _her_ would have been like?

Calmly as he tried, his handwriting was shaky. That damned woman was getting to him, and he wasn't even sure if he was angry or upset... no... he wasn't upset, letting _her_ get to him was pitiful. He was _livid._ No one did this, no one tested his generosity... and to think Mr Tenpenny was willing to allow her residence...

He finished writing the notice, and signed his name at the bottom. If he couldn't have her, then no one could, and she would rue the day she crossed him.

That _damn woman._


	5. First Night, First Contact

Her first night outside the Vault, she sat at the bar, her head resting in her hands and staring at the bottle of scotch in front of her. She knew where she had to go, her gift of the gab had ensured that Moriarty handed that over for free. In fact, it seemed quick thinking and good acting could get you anywhere on the surface, her first human encounter in Springvale was enough testament. Of course, at that point she had no idea who Moriarty was and who the hell she was on about, but she was happy to take the 400 caps off Silver and be on her way.

And now she was spending those caps getting drunk and trying to get over the fact she would never see anyone in the Vault again and their last encounters were just a blur to her. It was probably better, she didn't have a lot of friends in the Vault... but the idea of never seeing Amata (and to some degree, Butch) again made her stomach sink. At least she had his jacket, she could still smell him – she was horrified that the smell might go away eventually.

But she was here now, alone, in Moriarty's, slogging down her scotch and trying to keep just a little optimistic. At least she'd find her Dad now... maybe. She didn't have half a fucking idea where Galaxy News Radio was other than the vague directions Moriarty gave her.

Jericho had been watching the kid all night, sitting there like a pathetic sack of crap sucking down booze like it was lifeblood or some shit. He wasn't sure what to make of her, ditching that Vault for the Wastes. He didn't know the whole story but she seemed like a fine retard for giving up food and clean water and whatever the fuck else they had down there for this shit hole.

By now he'd had a few too many himself, but nothing out of the usual for him. Drinking seemed routine by now and he could handle himself as he stood up and walked to the bar.

"Hey, Zombie, gimme another-"

"He's serving _me._" Said a voice from beside him, a little slurred and quiet. "And his name is Gob."

Gob stopped reaching for the scotch, scared shitless. Jericho never liked him, not necessarily because he was a ghoul but because he was such a fucking coward. Jericho looked to his left, the little Vaultie sitting next to him, not even looking at him. He grunted, taking the stool next to her while Gob gingerly placed the bottle in front of her.

"Gimme another beer." he said, slamming down the caps on the bar and finally getting her to look at him.

"What the _fuck _you starin' at?" he snapped. She gave a chuckle, brushing the hair out of her face.

"I don't know, I didn't bring my book on Neanderthals with me."

"Neanderthals?" he asked, frowning at her. "What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

She raised an eyebrow, although she was drunk enough to have trouble keeping her eyes focused. "Cave men, dipshit. Neanderthals are _cave men._"

The ghoul put the beer on the bar, but instead of moving back to his spot, Jericho crossed his arms and gave her a good look. Vaultie thought she was tough, obviously, in her leather jacket looking like some sort of pre-war teenager from one of those smashed up billboards. Give any retard a gun and they think they're king of the Wastes.

"You think you're real tough shit, don't ya?" He spat. "What was wrong, didn't like the colour scheme in the Vault? Fucked too many of the other Vaulties?" He laughed at his second insult, he wouldn't put it past her, to be honest. She wasn't a half bad piece of ass and chances are that kids down there got bored and fucked like rabbits.

She was not in the mood for this shit. "Shut up and go away."

"Well tell me why the fuck you left, Vaultie." he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"It's Catherine," she slurred, realising she was far more drunk than she'd initially thought. "My Dad left and they booted me out right after. I'm looking for him. You have your answer, now fuck off and get out of my face."

"Oh, I see, daddy didn't love ya. Get over it, kid, he's probably dead."

Her hands balled up into little fists. "Shut up about my father."

Jericho laughed. "Ooooh, touched a nerve there, huh? Wanna run to ya' daddy? Oh, that's right!"

Without warning, she turned and slapped him across the face, and while it wasn't much, it was enough for Moriarty to take notice from whatever he was doing.

"Oi, you two!" he shouted. "If you're gonna have a lover's spat, get the fuck out of my bar so Simms can deal with it."

Both were going to argue, but it didn't take a genius to notice Moriarty was drumming his fingers on his pistol and was _not_ going to settle for anything else other than them both walking out of that door. The two stood up, leaving the Saloon, Catherine stumbling and Jericho mumbling something about kicking Moriarty's ass one of these days.

Outside, Catherine leant against the railing, her head down as if she was about to heave up all the night's drinking. Jericho shook his head and turned to make his way to his own house – she wasn't a big deal at all, no better than the rest of the shit drinking in the bar that night and not worth a fight. Now he'd just head back home, finish his beer and-

_Smack!_

He stumbled forward, clutching the back of his head. "What the fuck?" he asked, not knowing what the hell just hit the back of his head. He turned around, she stood there with her hands in fists, stumbling a little but standing none the less.

"Son of a bitch..." he mumbled. The Vaultie had just _punched_ him. That _woman_ had just punched him. Who the fuck did he think she was?

He grabbed her by the collar of her leather jacket, swinging her around and slamming her against the wall of the saloon they'd just argued in. She gave a grunt and squeezed her eyes shut on impact, not even bothering to struggle.

"Now look, kid, I don't usually give a lot of second chances, but seein' as you've got a decent ass I'll give ya' a warning. I will fucking _kill_ you. I will kill you and I will make sure it _fuckin'_ hurts, so _don't_ fuck with me."

She blinked, and he realised he was actually the only thing holding her up. "You think I have a nice butt?" she finally laughed after a few seconds of silence, before breaking out into giggles. He raised an eyebrow. How the fuck much had this kid had to drink? He let go of her and she slid own against the wall onto the ground, still giggling.

"Fuckin' hell." he grunted, turning around.

"Wait," she snorted, pulling herself up, a little bit unsteady. "Wait... wanna hang out?"

He turned back at her and his lips were ready to form a nice, big 'fuck you,' but then he saw it, the look on her face. She was biting her lip, an eyebrow raised and her arms crossed, and any warm blooded man knew what _that_ look meant. And any warm blooded man would be crazy to turn _that_ down, especially considering she probably didn't have any diseases, being a nice, clean Vaultie and all. And she might have been drunk but so was he so technically she was just as in the wrong as him and _she_ was the one who asked for it.

And when all was said and done, she was up at the crack of dawn and gone with half his shit, mostly chems and booze, but a crapload of his ammo was missing along with it. He threw his head back and groaned, if he wasn't so fucking hungover he probably would have chased her down and killed her. But if the kid was smart – and from what he heard, she was – she was probably miles away by now. At least he could demand another go next time she was in town.

He was right, she'd already dropped by GNR and was high-tailing her way to Rivet City. She finished a celebratory beer, courtesy of Jericho's fridge, and smiled. Sure, she was lonely as all hell last night and just needed any sort of affection she could find, but she held no resentment towards Jericho for taking advantage of her in such a fragile state.

It was nice of him to leave all his stuff out for her.


	6. Prom Night Blues

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"  
Amata looked across Catherine's apartment, watching as she slogged down more vodka and reached for a pack of cigarettes.

"What?" She laughed, removing one from the pack and propping it in her mouth, searching the coffee table for matches. Amata's eyes thinned and she stormed towards Catherine, leaning down and snatching the cigarette out of her mouth.

"It's _prom night_ and you're in here, getting drunk and acting crazy_, that's what!_"

"And you care why?"

"I've been looking _everywhere_ for you, Catherine! You're the only one in our class who didn't show, even _Butch_ is there for Christ's sake! You could have at least showed up for an hour, I mean you even got dressed for it."

Catherine looked down at herself, her mother's bracelets jangling as she smoothed out her dress, and snorted. "Look at that, I did, too."

"Look, is it something to do with Freddie? Because he's been asking for you. Did you two have a fight-"

"No." She answered bluntly, taking another swig and rolling her eyes. Amata only cared about her going because she'd planned the damn thing and to her it was more supervisory experience under her belt. "Well, actually sort of, yeah. But we didn't have a fight."

"Catherine, you've been acting weird for a while... I'm not going to lie, I'm worried about you. Is this about having to work with Butch all day? Because I _can_ talk to my dad and see if he'll transfer you to pipboy programming, you're qualified for it, and to be honest I think he'd like that because he's not thrilled about you coming anywhere near his feet, no offence."

"None taken. I know how the Overseer feels about me." she laughed. "But that won't be necessary. I don't mind being the pedicurist. Better than waste management." she didn't mention that she actually, god forbid, _enjoyed_ working with Butch, or even both trying to explain to Amata that he was a nice enough guy when he wasn't around the rest of the Snakes. There was no point.

"Then what's this about?" she asked.

Although Catherine knew she wasn't supposed to talk like that, the warm vodka in her stomach was telling her that it didn't matter. "I just... don't like it in the Vault."

"What do you mean?" Amata asked, sitting next to her on the couch.

"Life down here sucks."

Amata rolled her eyes. "We've been through this, Catherine. There's nothing up there. We're safe down here."

"No... I mean... what the hell do I have forward to?"

"You have plenty to look forward to."

"No, I don't." she snapped. "I want to meet new people... go somewhere else... the Vault is so... so... _boring._"

"Catherine..." Amata began, putting her hand on her shoulder. "This is starting to sound a lot like VDS. Maybe you should talk to your dad."

"Fucking hell, thank god it was that easy!" Catherine threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. "Cool, now I can just get some medication for it, marry Freddie and start popping out babies because that's what I'm supposed to do, right? Never mind I don't actually_ want_ to marry Freddie, or have his spawn or die down _here,_ never mind that I'll probably spend the rest of my life miserable and unhappy because it's just _how things work!"_

Amata scooted back a bit, taken back by the sudden outburst. "No one is going to make you marry Freddie, Catherine."

She rolled her eyes, she knew _that_ was bullshit and that the Overseer was more than likely to match them all up like little ducks, or at least refuse anyone who he didn't want coupling up a marriage license. "Because there's _so_ much more variety down here."

"There's plenty of other guys here. Like... uh... what about Hannon?"

"Sure. I suppose he'll stop seeing Susie when her face melts off in a freak accident."

"What about Jonas? You two always got along well." she was really struggling now. Catherine threw her head back and cackled.

"There are _so_ many things wrong with that. I think Dad would give him a premature autopsy, anyway."

"Butch?"

"And what freak alternate reality is this?" Catherine snorted, not so much because she was opposed to the idea, she'd have to be crazy to deny that his bad boy charm was something else and that there was anything less than sexual tension between the two at work in the salon, but rather because there would be no way Butch would marry anyone. _Ever._

Amata crossed her eyes and sighed. "Well you haven't really left a lot of wiggle room for yourself, Catherine. You can hardly afford to be picky."

"What about _you?_" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who will the next Overseer take as a husband?"

"First of all," she groaned as Catherine laughed, "I'm _not_ going to be the next Overseer, okay? Just because I'm a supervisor and my dad happens to be the current Overseer... anyway, I don't plan to get married. Or have kids."

"And why would that be?" Catherine asked, knowing all too well that it was hypocritical for Amata to accuse her of not leaving her options open.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're already rationing as it is. _I_ don't think we need any more kids"

"But _procreation is your civil duty!_" she laughed, deepening her voice.

"Well, if that's the case, I'll use less water to make up for it."

There was a silence for a while before Catherine took out another cigarette, this time successfully lighting it as Amata seemed to pensive to protest.

"Do you _really_ think there's something up there?" Amata asked, her head in her hands.

"Yeah. There has to be. I refuse to believe there's _nothing_ out there... what about you? Honestly, too, none of this responsible supervisor crap."

She paused a little, before nodding. "Yeah... sometimes I wonder... I mean, it doesn't make sense that they can say there's nothing up there without having ever _opened_ the Vault, you know? I mean, for all we know, there might not have even _been_ bombs around here."

Another silence for a few moments, before they heard shouting and footsteps coming up the hall. A blur passed her window, but when the blur shouted "Tunnel Snakes!" they knew all too well that Butch had caused some sort of drama.

"I guess that's my cue to go and see what he's done." Amata sighed, standing up. "You know, no one will notice how drunk you are if you brush your teeth. You should come. Freddie would appreciate it."

She shook her head, grabbing her cigarettes and her keyring off the coffee table. "Thanks, but I have a feeling some little bastard is hiding out in the salon, and I'd better go try to get him out of there before he manages to break something. Do me a favour, don't send security my way, okay? Last thing we need is them knocking everything over."

"Sure you won't need a hand?" Amata asked.

"Trust me, I've got it under control. You just go fix up whatever happened and enjoy your prom."

And with that, they parted ways, and Catherine was determined that if she couldn't go up there, she was going to have fun down here.


	7. Jessie

"Um... beer please."

Catherine raised an eyebrow at Butch as the girl ordered, before watching her hand Belle the caps and sit in the corner of the Muddy Rudder, as far from anyone else as possible, timid as she was when she was 16... probably because the girl looked no _older_ than 16.

"Belle..." she whispered, gesturing for her to come closer. "Don't you think she's a bit young?"

Belle glanced at the girl, back at Catherine and shrugged. "Not my problem. Now are you gonna order something?"

"Yeah, uh... another two whiskies, in the bottle, it's a special occasion."

As usual, Belle didn't ask questions, which gave Catherine a little comfort now and then knowing that she could stumble in here, covered in raider guts and half naked, and at least _one_ person wouldn't immediately want to know every detail. That's not to say Belle wasn't as nosey, in fact, she was probably far more nosey than any of them and when it came to acquiring gossip Belle was _way_ ahead of Vera in that Belle was so sly and underhanded about it that you'd never even know she'd been listening. But Belle, while unable to mind her own business, was smart enough to not spread gossip or annoy Catherine when fishing for information.

She placed the whiskey bottles in front of them and took Catherine's caps, returning to her usual corner before the two clinked their bottles together.

"To a month out of the Vault!" Catherine almost sang.

"Nuhuh," he shook his head, pulling his bottle away. "To the Tunnel Snakes."

Catherine rolled her eyes and gave a groan. Sometimes she'd wonder if he'd ever grow up, but to be honest if being 'The Tunnel Snakes' was enough to keep him around then she was willing to play the part. "_Fine,_ to the Tunnel Snakes."

The two threw their heads back, and even though Catherine had really been trying to work against her reputation and track record, she was still a lightweight and whoever told her that the taste of whiskey grows on you was a _fucking liar._ She grimaced and slammed her bottle back down, panting a little for air as her throat burned, while Butch seemed to have mistaken his for water and the only reason he didn't drink the whole bottle was because he needed to laugh at her.

As he slapped her back and laughed, she couldn't help but notice the girl in the corner, sitting there alone and silent, almost like she was waiting for someone.

She was lucky that Butch had drank enough to pass out that night because she kept finding herself distracted to the point of insomnia. She tossed and turned, thinking about that girl. There was no way that girl was over 18, and she couldn't stop thinking about how bad it was being alone out there and she was _19_ at the time, not that age made a difference if Little Lamplight was anything to go by.

She thought of the girl, alone, probably half wasted in that bar, with some creep like Sister all over her. Catherine shuddered at the idea of _anyone_ making the same mistake she did on her first night in the wastes, let alone a girl who wouldn't be small enough to fight them off should something go wrong...

But worst of all was the look that girl had on her face, and although Catherine couldn't put her finger on just _what_ it was, she could tell that girl did _not _want to be there and something _had_ gone wrong.

One '_fuck this' _later and she'd rolled over, swinging her legs out of bed and reaching for a pair of pants. As she put them on, she heard the movement of sheets and knew what was coming.

"Where you going?"

"Back to the bar, Butch." she replied bluntly, stepping into some boots and reaching down to tie them up.

"We were there for last call, babe, there won't be any booze left."

"I know, that's not why I'm going... I'm going to check on that girl."

"Who, Trinnie?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, obviously still half blind. "I thought you hated her... she uh, called you a bitch or something, right?"

"Yeah, and she _tried to sleep with you, _remember?" She snapped. Catherine didn't hate a lot of people that she couldn't shoot, but Trinnie was a rare exception. Not only had she made a move at someone who was _clearly_ with her, but she had the balls to call her a bitch when she threatened to kick her ass back to Lamplight. She shook her head. "That's besides the point, anyway, I'm not checking on Trinnie. You remember that girl I thought was too young to be drinking?"

"Who? You mean the redhead? Jesus, Cat, you gotta lay off. Remember how much _we_ used to drink?"

"No, Butch," she laughed. "At that age I was still gushing over Grognak the Barbarian. _You_ were the one drinking and smoking and-"

"Having all the fun?" he smirked.

"Yeah. And it's not really about that... I mean... she can't be older than 16, 17 tops, right? You know how grabby Sister gets." she remembered the time she had to get Butch into a headlock to stop him from _killing_ Sister because he slapped her on the ass. "I want to make sure he's not taking advantage of her... and... I don't know if you noticed, but she looked really sad... Butch?"

She turned around and smiled at Butch, who was asleep, again. He was almost cute in that state, and had he not stank like whisky and been loudly snoring, she probably would have given him a kiss, but instead she chose to slip out of the hotel room there and then to avoid any further questioning.

When she arrived at the Muddy Rudder, Catherine had to do a double take because instead of having to ask Brock or someone where she'd gone, that girl was still _right there. _Hesitantly, Catherine made her way over, quietly pulling up the seat across from her.

"Hey..." Catherine quietly said, trying to sound as gentle as possible. The girl glanced up from her hands, saying nothing. "You uh... new here?"

The girl didn't say anything, instead she leant back a tiny fraction and frowned at Catherine curiously.

Deciding to try and break the ice, Catherine extended a hand. "I'm Catherine."

Very, very cautiously, the girl took it, shaking her hand gently. "Jessie."

"Jessie, huh?" Catherine asked. "Is that short for Jessica?" Jessie nodded and she smiled. "You can call me Cat if you want."

"I saw you here before." Jessie began, her voice so delicate that it set Catherine back a bit. "Why'd you come back? Was it to talk to me?"

"Well yeah." she laughed, leaning back and crossing her arms. "It was, actually."

"Look, I'm going to tell you what I told the other guy," Jessie snapped, giving Catherine a little bit of a shock. "I'm not interested."

Raising her eyebrows, Catherine thought for a moment. "Interested in what? ...Oh... _oh..._ Oh god, no! No, that's not what I'm after... I was actually just sort of worried about you."

Jessie glanced up from her fingers and at Catherine, a little bit of a smile beginning to appear in the corners of her mouth. "Worried about me?" she laughed. "Why would you be 'worried' about me?"

"Because," Catherine whispered, leaning in a little so her elbows were on the table. "It's 3.30 in the morning, you were in the same spot when we started drinking, which was 8.00. Now either you're waiting for someone very irresponsible or you don't know what the hell you're going to do with yourself."

"And _you_ know what I should be doing with myself?" Jessie scoffed, crossing her arms, a flash of the teenage attitude in her eyes that Catherine still saw in Butch. "Take a hike, lady."

Ignoring her request, Catherine leant back, removing a carton of cigarettes fro her pocket and opening the carton with a flick of her thumb. "Tell me, Jessie, how old are you?"

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Old enough."

"Humour me." she mumbled, the cigarette in the side of her mouth as she lit it. "How old are you? And be honest. I can tell when people lie to me, I've interrogated Slavers before."

"...I'm 16."

Catherine nodded. _Thought so._ "When I was your age, I was in a Vault, and I had no fucking idea what was up here, Jessie. And I didn't find out until I was 19, and there was still nothing that could prepare me for it. And on my first night in the wastes, my _first night,_ I made a _huuuge_ mistake."

"What kind of mistake?" she asked.

Catherine smirked, exhaling some smoke. "I might tell you some day." she chuckled, although she doubted it. It was something she hadn't even told Butch yet. "Anyway, I was busy looking for my Dad, you know, but I was still lost out here and the number of I times I was lucky to be alive? I lost count. Anyway, in the end, I did what I had to do, and to this day the only thing that stops me from getting my ass handed to me is having someone with me to give me a Stimpack when there's so much adrenaline in my system that I can't tell I've broken my arm."

"I know who you are." Jessie began, actually giving her a _smile_ for the first time. "You're that girl on the radio they're always talking about... um... the Urban Myth, right?"

She laughed. "Three Dog has a tendency to make a mountain out of a molehill but yes, that's me he's referring to."

"I didn't expect you to uh..."

"Hang out in dive bars with a fired up greaser? No one does, really."

Jessie chuckled. "I guess not."

"Anyway, Jessie... what exactly are you doing out here? You're not from Little Lamplight, too young to be kicked out of there... let me guess... ex slave?"

Jessie shook her head. "Worse."

"What, is there a Vault I don't know about?"

"You ever been to Point Lookout?"

Catherine laughed and nodded, remembering that hell of a fucking month on the boat and the month back, and all she got out of it was a fucking scar and hunk of her brain floating in a jar. "Sure have. I got mixed up with that tribal crowd."

"So you took the Punga seeds?" she laughed.

"Yeah, and after _that_ little ride they cut out a chunk of my brain. After that? There was no fucking way I was staying _there, _I was out of there so fast... uh... why?"

"I was a Tribal... well, _was._" Jessie leant in and reached for a cigarette, making Catherine frown a little.

"Aren't you a bit young to smoke?"

"Aren't you a bit young to be telling me what to do?"

Catherine raised her eyebrows, nodding in defeat. "I'll give you that. Anyway, so you _where_ a Tribal? What are you doing out here?"

She lit the cigarette and tossed the lighter back on the table, taking a long drag and exhaling again, the fluidity being enough evidence to Catherine that she'd been smoking for a while. "In the Tribe... as you know, you have to 'open your mind' before you can truly be accepted. Well, when you're _born_ into the Tribe, it's a rite of passage. When you're 16, they send you off to the bog, all alone, and if you come back alive then you can enjoy a lifetime of... oh hell, I'd lived there all my life and I'm not even sure what the hell they were about. Anyway, my 16th birthday rolled along a few weeks ago, so off I go. But I didn't go to the bog."

"And why was that?" Catherine asked, genuinely curious.

"I'd met 'outsiders' before, the world outside the Tribe wasn't as awful as they made it out to be at all... chances are I could have met you. Did you ever come inside the Cathedral?"

Catherine scrunched up her face, thinking hard. She couldn't remember _much_ for a few days after the whole Punga incident. She did, however, remember the ferry woman... what was her name? Natalie? Nadia? Nadine? That was it! Nadine. "I think so... I'm not sure, though, everything is a little bit fuzzy..."

"Oh, right, the whole hunk of brain thing. I getcha'. Anyway, what was I supposed to do? Go back there and grow Punga forever? My Dad died when I was a kid, from what Mom told me... I think she joined the Tribe when I was still a baby... anyway, she... didn't exactly come out a whole lot better after the initiation. Messed up her memory really badly. She died last year, no idea what killed her. So yeah, nothing for me there. I took my rifle, snuck on that boat and wound up here... that Nadia lady was nice enough to give me some clothes and some caps, though. I think she felt sorry for me... she didn't even mind that I'd been stowing away."

Catherine blinked and watched as Jessie took another drag. "That's uh... wow. That's... one hell of a story. Fuck. So that's why you're all alone here, right?"

"Yeah."

"Any idea what you're gonna go with yourself?"

Jessie shrugged. "Not really. I don't mind it here much, not a lot of caps going around, though, and the it's noisy at night. I heard about this Tenpenny Tower place, someone told me there's a security force there looking for recruits, and I hear it's safe. Have you ever been there?" she asked. "_Is_ it okay?"

Catherine paused. Tenpenny Tower was safe from the wastes, yes... but she wasn't so sure about the residents... namely a Mister Burke who'd been stalking her for god knows how long. No, there was _no_ way she was recommending it to Jessie with that creep there. "Jessie," she began. "Can you shoot?"

"Of course I can." she laughed. "Best shot in the Tribe, if I say so myself."

"Well... look... Tenpenny Tower? You don't want to be stuck there, not now. It's safe, sure, but no safer than here, and everyone in there? Jerks. All of them."

"_All_ of them?" she asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"Okay... Mr Dashwood is okay... but that's besides the point. Jessie, ever heard of a place called Megaton?"

Jessie nodded, butting out her cigarette's remains in the ashtray. "Heard of it, yes. What is it?"

"It's a settlement, a lot like here, and it's safe." She used the word 'safe' loosely, thinking of Jericho, but she knew that if she gave Simms a heads up, he'd keep an eye on her. Maybe a few caps under the counter and Moriarty might also feel a sudden need to protect her, although she knew it'd be far from cheap and he'd no doubt call in some sort of stupid favour. "I have a house there, and you're welcome to move right in, Jessie. It doesn't creak at night or anything."

"Oh..." Jessie stuttered, mouth open a little like a trapdoor. "Oh, that's nice, Catherine,"

"Cat."

"Uh, Cat, but I _really_ can't just _move in..._"

"Sure you can."

"What about you, though?" she asked. "I mean, uh... you and uh... your boyfriend. You guys need space, right?"

Catherine shrugged. "Butch? Honey, if he's not passed out by the time he stumbles his drunk ass to the couch, he sleeps in my room. Right now there's an empty room and it's just sort of sitting there." She blinked, realising that she'd just called her 'honey' and was starting to sound like a less sexy version of Nova.

"I uh... um... Cat?" Jessie asked, shuffling a little in her seat. "Can I ask a question?"

"Go for it."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "You just met me."

Catherine smiled a little bit, the lack of sleep _finally_ getting to her. "Because... I don't know. I guess I remember how much it sucks to be alone out here."

Jessie smiled and glanced up at her, before nodding slowly. "Okay... when do we leave?" She said quietly, averting her eyes. Maybe Catherine had hit a nerve, but she knew it was best to leave it.

"As soon as sleeping beauty wakes up, we'll hit the dusty trail."


	8. Smooth

**Yeah, that's right. I'm still kickin'. Just with a lot less free time on my hands.**

**

* * *

  
**

So I'm cutting Susie's hair, and I'll be damned if that girl can shut her mouth for two seconds. She's talking about god knows what while poor Cat has to work on her grotty feet – being a barber might not be the best job in the Vault but I thank my lucky stars every day that I didn't get stuck as the pedicurist. I remember the time she had to treat Mack's old man for an ingrown toenail and looked like she was gonna barf the whole time.

I have no idea why she didn't just ask Amata for a favour, you know? Hell, Amata offered to try and get her old man to change it as soon as she found out, but Cat either has a weird thing for feet, a really stiff upper lip or she _really_ didn't want to be a pipboy programmer. Me? Nothing I could do, I mean you point out someone's weight problems a few times and all of a sudden you're the bad guy – although, I guess I _am_ the baddest guy in the Vault so it's not like I'd _want_ her help anyway.

Still, right now waste management seems pretty sweet compared to having to cut Susie's hair. Susie Mack.

Susie _fucking _Mack.

All the woman ever does talk. Talk and talk and talk. _Talk, talk, talk._

"Isn't that right, Butch?"

Shit, she just asked me a question and I don't have a damn idea what she's talking about. _Crap._

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever."

Ugh, and now she's bitching at Mrs Holden about something... and from the look on Cat's face it's not something pleasant. Time to concentrate and try to figure out what the hell she's babbling about.

"And then Dad had to go to the Doctor, and you _know_ what that quack is like! Guy doesn't know your ass from your mouth and he's a real creep, too, if you ask me. I won't even go to him unless I'm like, bleeding all over the floor and dying or something, because you should just _see_ the way he looks at Christine sometimes. Everyone knows it! And I mean not to sound like a bitch or anything but between you and me, I wouldn't put it past her, either. Like don't get me wrong, I love that girl, but I'll be damned if I haven't seen her with a few more Mentats than she should have _ifyouknowwhatImean… _OUCH!"

All of a sudden Susie jumps and I check to make sure I didn't cut into her ear like I accidentally did one time to the Overseer and nearly got my ass arrested, but when there isn't any blood I look down to Cat and see that she's accidentally cut into a little skin on the side of her little toe.

"Oops... sorry. It's these damn scissors." Cat's scrambling through her supplies for disinfectant. "My usual ones are getting sharpened."

Susie sighs and continues going on about whatever, and Cat looks up at me, and although it ain't too obvious she's got this look on her face and you can _tell_ she totally meant to do that. I hate it when she does shit like this, it kinda makes me feel a bit bad about giving her that swirly when she was 16... and that time I tripped her over going down the stairs on Overseer day... and when I popped her in the mouth at her birthday party. But I don't feel too bad because since we started working together she turned out to be kinda cool and I haven't done anything bad to her in _ages_, except on her 18th birthday when I broke into her room and stole all of her left shoes, but that was different because it was her 18th and you _gotta_ prank them because it's like, tradition or something. And she laughed that time anyway so that totally means I'm off the hook.

Anyway, so I'm pretty much done with Susie's hair, and I don't know why she even bothers coming in sometimes because it's not even like there's a lot I have to do except wash it, and she can do that herself, so guess she just likes annoying the hell outta me and Cat. Actually, mainly Cat, who's packing up all her foot stuff now so Susie's probably gonna leave soon which will be _awesome_.

"That's it." Cat sighs, she stands up and looks to Mrs Holden who gets up.

"Well, Susie, come on, we'll head back to your room and get started. How's your shoulder been?"

"Ugh, _terrible!" _Jesus Christ, that girl's voice annoys the hell out of me these days. But her and Mary are halfway down the hall by the time Cat says anything so at least I don't have to listen to it any more.

"Oh my god, she was so fucking lucky I didn't cut the fucker off." She shoves her stuff in the supply locker and groans. "What is her problem? I already have to touch her goddamn feet as it is, isn't that enough suffering?"

"I gotta admit, Cat, you might be a total loser but that was pretty cool."

"Thanks, think she could tell I was trying not to stab her in the face?"

"Nah, totally went under the radar. Not with me, though, because like, I know my shit."

Cat laughs and sits in one of her pedicure seats, the fancy padded ones that has some tares covered up with duct tape. "So I'm not bad enough to fool the big bad Tunnel Snake, huh? So much for my membership application."

"You _never_ gonna be bad enough, Cat." Okay, maybe one day she might be, _maybe,_ but right now we can't have a girl in our gang unless she's like the hottest chick in the universe, like one of those girls from Hannon's old pre-war nudie magazine that he hides under his mattress. If we have a girl in our gang then _all_ the girls are gonna think they can join and then who the hell can we screw around with? Wait, _can_ Snakes screw around with other Snakes? I gotta figure that out in case one day Cat _is_ cool enough.

"Damn, I was hoping I could seduce you with my _feminine wiles,_ Butchie-boy." She's got this stupid pout on her face and even though it's funny as hell and she laughs after a few seconds, it's still looks kinda good, even if she just called me Butchie-boy. "Shame, too. That jacket looks good on you but I think I'd _rock_ it."

"Girl, there's only one way you're getting me out of this jacket."

She snorts and tosses a bottle of water at me, but not like, because she wants to hit me because I'm too _charming_ to piss her off. It's hot in here, like really, if I wasn't tough I'd probably bitch a lot more about it.

"You know why it's so stuffy all of a sudden? Like for the last week." I ask her.

She opens her bottle and takes a swig of it, and them wipes her mouth and nods. Awesome, _someone_ can tell me something about it. "Yeah, Stanley said one of the air filtration fans is out, like it's rusted or something. They're fixing it but it's gonna take another day or two."

"Damn. Well, at least you're good for Vault gossip. Know anything else worth knowing?"

She shrugs. "Not much... oh!" she smiles, so I know it's something good. "Did you hear about Mrs Holden? About how she's quitting?"

"What? No way! That's awesome!" Finally, we can do our work without her bitching at us about _something_

"Yeah, word is that her and Mr Holden are gonna try and have a kid or something."

"So who's the new Vault masseuse?"

All of a sudden she's only got a half smile. "...Well... actually, she had a word to me about it, and she wants me to take it up."

"_You? _Uh, Cat... you already gotta touch people's _feet._" That's gross, especially because she'd like, have to touch Officer Gomez when he didn't have a shirt on or anything, and sometimes they have to get totally naked and I'm no priest but that doesn't seem like something the Doc would be totally happy with his girl doing.

"Well, it's extra ration coupons... and I um... well, I was thinking about how you don't get a lot because you're always getting arrested and penalised and stuff, so I thought maybe I could give them to you."

"Well that's stupid, because I might as well just do it."

"Actually, I asked her about that. She said that if I don't take it, she'll offer it to one of the maintenance crew because she doesn't think anyone would let you come near them while they were naked."

Okay, she might be right. Sort of. "That's only half true. I know a couple of people who _like_ it."

Cat nearly spits her mouthful of water out and starts laughing her ass off. "_WHAT?!_ Oh Butch, come on, you gotta tell me who."

"Nuh uh, you've been out of the loop this long, you can ask around and find out yourself." I'm kinda surprised she doesn't know because it's not like a secret who I've done, like there's only two girls in our class who'd I'd touch and hey, I had to make sure people knew I was a man. "How the hell don't you already know, anyway?"

"Look, I made a point of avoiding gossip. Come on, Butch, don't hold out on me." I don't know what this 'feminine wiles' thing is she was talking about, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the way she's biting her lip and making her eyes look _real_ big right know and it's almost like she _knows_ it's doing something, like she's got some kind of awesome super power.

"Well, someone had to write that thing about Christine on the chalkboard."

She puts her hands to her mouth, which is bullshit because I bet she knew all along. "Really? But I thought her and Mack..."

"Sloppy seconds, baby."

"Ew... so uh... a couple, huh?"

"What are you, deaf?"

She crosses her arms and smiles. "Well, I'll guess, because it's sure as hell not Amata-"

"Damn right it ain't!" I almost wanna be sick even _thinking_ about that, not because she's fat or anything because she really isn't, but because she's so damn boring and always on about the 'rules' and she's always got the answer for everything and always turning me in for shit, she's just like her dad except she's got boobs and for some reason Cat _really_ likes her.

"And it wasn't _me_..." I like how she says wasn't, like it's gonna happen soon, because while she's still a bit of a nerd I wouldn't mind giving her a shot some day even though I have a feeling she'd kick my ass even if I tried and to be honest I'm scared shitless of her old man. But if she keeps this big eye and kissy-lips thing up for much long I don't know if I can help myself because it's like she _wants_ to, even though five minutes later she'll be acting like another guy and burping out loud and cursing like my pop used to, it kinda makes me wonder if she's _really_ a girl under there. I'm serious - In this old encyclopaedia we found this thing, a herma-something, and they're like boys _and_ girls at the same time. Maybe _that's_ the reason she hasn't thrown herself at me yet. Nah, I gotta be joking, she hasn't done that yet because she's shy, I'm pretty intimidating.

"So by process of elimination, it must have been that _l__ovely _Susie Mack... what the hell, Butch, were you _drunk?"_

"Yeah, so what if I was?"

"Why the hell, _her?_ She's just... urgh!"

"Sounds like you're jealous."

"Oh, fuck off!"

"Anyway, you may not have noticed, but Susie is a babe."

"Then why aren't you still sleeping with her?"

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? That Mack almost found out and he woulda kicked my ass into the incinerator? Or tried, anyway, I could take him in a fight. That Susie was boring as all hell and wanted me to like, marry her and give up the gang? That she pissed off with Hannon? "She was getting on my nerves. Talked _way_ too much. Besides, she couldn't handle me."

Cat snorts and gives me this look. "But she can handle Paul? No offence, Butch, but he's not the Snake's strongest point, you know."

"Hey, shut up. Least I'm not marrying _Gomez._"

All of a sudden she stopped laughing and looked _real_ pissed off at me. "First of all, we're not getting married, Butch. We're getting engaged after prom."

"Still means you're getting married."

"And second of all, at least Freddie had the balls to make a move on me."

Ouch. "What's _that_ 'sposed to mean?"

She gives me that goddamn look, kinda like the one she gave me when she cut Susie's toe but just a little bit more intense. "Nothing."

"Oh, I see... well, if that's how it is..." Time to work my magic, all I gotta do is walk over there, slick back my hair and put my arm around her shoulder, and I do it perfectly because I'm that damn smooth "You can give _me_ a massage right now if you like, girl."

She rolls her eyes at me, I don't get why the hell she does it because that was like my best move and I bet I coulda' seduced _Mack_ with that – if I wanted to, which I don't, because that's just gross.

"Down, boy." And now she has the goddamn balls to try and push me away!

Like hell if that's gonna happen! She practically challenged me and she can't just walk away, and I ain't done yet. I'll show her! I grab her by the collar and pull her back, and give her the goddamn best kiss I can considering I think I'm pretty lucky she didn't just kick me in the nuts and then yell at me because she thought I was gonna hit her or something. And you know what? It ain't that half bad, actually, it beats Christine by a long shot because she had braces and that was sorta like making out with a robot, at least what I bet that feels like anyway. And I _swear to god_ she's actually _kissing back_ which is awesome because now I don't look like an asshole. I wonder if I can get to second base? No, wait, if I do that I _will_ look like an asshole. Or will I?

Just gonna pull her in a little bit, not because uh, I wanna get close to her or anything but uh, because like, I'm just trying to heighten the experience for her so I can win the challenge that didn't actually existand... ah hell, she just smells really good and she's really soft and I've been wanting to do this for _months_ and right now I wanna lock the door and get her up against the storage locker and-

"Butch," Why'd she pull away? What? "Um... uh..." She steps back and takes a deep breath and flexes her hands a bit. "I'm going to go, now. Please tell Mrs Holden when she gets back that if she needs me I have a migraine, or else I will kick your ass."

And just like that, she walks out. What the hell? I thought chicks dig that spontaneous romance shit. There's no way she's that serious about Gomez, guys like a lizard or something. We didn't call him Freddie the Freak for nothing, I mean he's like, obsessed with her. Doesn't that freak girls out? And I mean I'm no psychic but Cat didn't look _thrilled_ when I brought it up.

She just needs to cool down, that's all. Yeah, must have hit her like a nuke. I probably stirred up some new feelings in her or something that scared her.

Gotta remember to beat up Gomez next time I see him.


End file.
